Scipio Africanus

the disrepute of a successful end. It would seem likely that a century hence the name of Ludendorff will be emblazoned as the heroic figure of the European war, while that of Foch sinks into obscurity. There are signs already of this tendency to exalt the defeated. For permanence of reputation a man of action must appeal to emotion, not merely to the mind, and since the living man himself no longer can kindle the emotions of posterity, the dramatic human touch of ultimate failure is essential. This truth would seem to hold in most branches of human effort. Scott's gallant but unavailing attempt to reach the South Pole lives in the world's memory, while the successful ventures of Amundsen and Peary are fading. In sport Durandot's marathon is an enduring memory, but who among the general public could recall the name of Hayes, the actual victor, or indeed that of any subsequent marathon winner? For this irrational, this sentimental verdict, it is fashionable to fix the blame on modern journalism, yet the barest survey of history shows that its origins lie far back in the mists of time. On the historian, in fact, who of all men should by training and outlook put his trust in reason, falls the major responsibility for this eternal tendency, the glorification of dramatic failure at the expense of enduring achievement. The history of the ancient confirms that of the modern world, and in no example more strikingly than that of Scipio Africanus, the subject of this brief study, which is an attempt to redress the historical balance by throwing further weights of knowledge and military appreciation on Scipio's side, not as commonly by detraction from his rivals. Gradually, progressively, the belittlement of Scipio has been pressed by historians anxious to enhance the fame of Hannibal. It is the more unreasonable the less excusable, because here there are no massive conflicting sources and contemporary opinions. The reliable data on which to base a study and a judgment are practically limited to the works of Polybius and Livy, with but a few grains from other and admittedly less trustworthy ancient authorities. And of these two, Polybius, the earlier, is almost contemporary with events, the friend of Gaius Lilius, Scipio's constant subordinate, from whom he could get first-hand evidence and judgments. He had the family archives of the Scipios at his disposal for research, and he had been over the actual battlefields while many of the combatants were still alive. Thus he gained an almost unique base upon which to form his estimate. Further, being a Greek, his views are less suspect than those of Livy of being coloured by Roman patriotic bias, while modern historical criticism is unanimous in its tribute alike to his impartiality, his thoroughness of research, and the soundness of his critical insight. The verdict of Polybius is clear, and his facts still more so. That there were divergent judgments of Scipio among the Romans of succeeding generations is true, but Polybius explains the reason so convincingly, their truth borne out by the known facts of Scipio's strategical and tactical plans, that there is no vestige of excuse for modern writers to regard as due to luck what superstition led the ancients to ascribe to divine aid. The fact that he was almost the most famous man of all time makes everyone desirous to know what sort of man he was, and what were the natural gifts and the training which enabled him to accomplish so many great actions. But none can help falling into error and acquiring a mistaken impression of him, as the estimate of those who have given us their views about him is very wide of the truth. They represent him as a man favoured by fortune, such men being, in their opinion, more divine and more worthy of admiration than those who always act by calculation. They are not aware that the one deserves praise and the other only congratulation, being common to ordinary men, whereas what is praiseworthy belongs only to men of sound judgment and mental ability, whom we should consider to be the most divine and most beloved by the gods. To me it seems that the character and principles of Scipio much resembled those of Lycurgus, the Lacedaemonian legislator. For neither must we suppose that Lycurgus drew up the constitution of Sparta under the influence of superstition and solely prompted by the Pythia, nor that Scipio won such an empire for his country by following the suggestion of dreams and omens. But since both of them saw that most men neither readily accept anything unfamiliar to them, nor venture on great risks without the hope of divine help, Lycurgus made the